Rooted Living: Returning to Soul

For a long time, I’ve been living in survival mode — doing what needed to be done, holding everything together, and trying to make sense of life in the spaces between exhaustion and hope. It’s a strange kind of quiet that comes with survival. You keep going because you must, even when parts of you are begging for stillness.

But lately, I’ve felt something shifting. It’s subtle — like the soft pull of roots beneath the surface reminding me they’re still there, still alive. There’s a longing in me to return to what feels real, to what feeds my soul instead of just keeps me functioning.

When I started Modestly Authentic with Christopher, it came from a shared desire to slow down, to live meaningfully, to honor the simple beauty of home and spirit and earth. Together we dreamed of building something that would reflect that — a life, a rhythm, a brand rooted in purpose.

And while life has changed, that heartbeat remains. The dream has taken new shape, but the soil it grew from is still sacred to me. I’m learning that growth doesn’t always mean letting go — sometimes it means reaching deeper into the same ground and finding something new waiting there.

Rooted living, for me now, looks quieter. It’s short spurts of red light therapy, morning light spilling across the kitchen table, a few walks in the crisp autumn air with my littles tucked into their double stroller. It’s the scent of herbs crumbling between my fingers as I prepare them for tea or tincture, or a fresh pot simmering on the stove to fragrance the air while calming music fills the background — Celine Dion, Josh Groban, St. Finnikin, Forest Frank, meditation tracks & sound frequency healing, tibetan singing bowls, edm. It’s letting faith become less about answers and more about trust. It’s learning to breathe again — to choose presence over perfection.

Some days, the journey feels lonely. Other days, it feels like freedom. But through it all, I’m remembering that the most authentic life is one that evolves. The roots don’t resent the storm — they hold tighter, dig deeper, and keep reaching toward the light.

So this is me, beginning again. Not from scratch, but from soul. Not to erase what was, but to honor what is — the quiet becoming of something both ancient and new.

If you’ve ever felt the same pull — to return to yourself after seasons of survival, to find peace in the dirt and divinity in the small things — you belong here too. Let’s grow gently together. 🌱